Dancing and Twirling and Falling
by AshenMoon42
Summary: Petunia was wilting. Her mother had said they bloomed when they were together, but now they weren't. They were very far apart, so her petals slowly spiralled to the ground. / Petunia and Lily through the years.


This is for the Honeydukes challenge on the Reviews Corner Forum.

Prompt: (title) Dancing and Twirling and Falling

I moved this from the Fall of an Angel because no-one reads that. Please tell me what you think!

Dancing and Twirling and Falling

Lily was crying. She was lying in bed - in their shared room - and sobbing into her pillow, muffling the sound so that Petunia could barely hear.

"What is it?"

"I'll miss you, Tuney. And Mum and Dad. Will you write to me?"

"I'll miss you too. And I'll try to write. I don't know where to find an owl, though."

Lily laughed "I'll send a letter with an owl and you reply with that."

"Yeah. I'd like that."

Petunia fell asleep smiling.

* * *

Petunia wept. She didn't have the thought to be embarrassed about sobbing in an ungraceful heap. She just wept. Her skirts pooled around her on the floor of their bedroom - her bedroom now - and tears streamed down her face.

Lily was a witch, and now she was gone. She'd left to go a school for people like her - for freaks - and she wouldn't be back until Christmas. As much as Petunia scorned her, as much as she pushed her away, she loved her younger sister, and she certainly didn't want her to be snatched away by wizards and witches. It was like a fairytale, really, wasn't it? A beautiful maiden kidnapped by ugly creatures.

* * *

She didn't write. The owl came but flew right off again before she could send a return. The second time, she just couldn't find anything to say. The third and the fourth, she was busy, and didn't even see the post owl. She couldn't recall the other times, but all she knew is that those six months were the longest time they'd been apart since Lily's birth. The distance was painful.

* * *

Then there was the jealousy. Petunia had had her own fantasies as a young child about magical powers and fairies and wizards. She had longed to have some magic of her own, as all little children did. As she grew older, she never considered that maybe - just maybe - it was real.

And then Lily had done those peculiar things - she'd tipped over a glass of apple juice that Granny had tried to feed her, and at the park she'd made the swings go higher, higher, higher until it felt like the two girls were flying. Once she had made a squirrel fly away from a group of thugs from down the lane. She had made the petals of a daisy open up in her hand.

Jealousy. Why could Lily do these wonderful things and not Petunia? Why was Lily always the favourite - the clever one, the pretty one, the magical one?

Petunia loved Lily, but she certainly was jealous.

* * *

When Lily came back that first Christmas, Petunia hid behind a mask of steel. A mask of cool indifference or one of disgust.

"Jealous? Never! Why would I want to be a … a freak?"

And their parents frowned at her harsh words, wondering what ever had happened to sweet Petunia.

She used the mask to hide the pain, the fear, the jealousy, but also the delight, the curiosity. She wouldn't let herself seem like the little sister just because Lily had run away with some barmy old codgers who called themselves magical. Couldn't let herself get too attached, because how could Lily want to stay with her so very normal family when she had a magical castle to go to?

Petunia only let the mask fall away when she was alone. That was when she cried.

* * *

At summer, they'd had a party in the garden with family friends. The music had been so happy, so foreign to the jealousy that lay inside Petunia. And Lily had smiled her sweet smile, as if she'd seen something beautiful.

"Can we dance?" She asked, red hair blowing in the breeze.

Petunia smiled thinking of the many times they'd danced together, letting the mask fall. "Let's."

They did. They spun and they twirled and they danced like they had together when they were younger. Petunia felt her petals open around her and her smile turned into a wild grin. Her heart swelled, her mind cleared, and she felt happier than ever before. Happier than when that boy in her class had finally kissed her. Happier than that Christmas when she'd gotten the kitten. Happier than when she used to play fairies or princesses or pirates with Lily. Because she still loved her sister and her sister loved her.

In that moment, the sisters shone. That moment, a flower surrounded by days of thorns and unpleasantness.

However different Lily was, however more special, they were still sisters. That mattered more than anything else.

* * *

She had written a letter to the headmaster, she remembered. She recalled how Lily and that Snape boy had read it. They probably laughed at her pleads, at her pain.

But Lily wouldn't. No, Lily was still sweet and kind, even after a whole year with monsters. They hadn't infected her yet. Lily didn't understand things like cruelty - she was far too innocent.

In a way she was one of the magical princesses that they'd always dreamed of being together … only that Petunia was left behind this time. Petunia couldn't go to the castle and meet the prince. Petunia couldn't go to Hogwarts and learn magic. She was just a muggle.

Lily had said that word, Muggle, like it was different to before. Like she had never been one.

Well, she hadn't.

She'd always been a freak.

Petunia started to believe her own lies.

* * *

In the end, the magical world wasn't worth it. Lily had told her about a war. That she was in danger. It just sounded like unnecessary death and fear and pain. Petunia didn't want that. Maybe it was best she wasn't a witch anyway. It all sounded unpleasant. Couldn't the wizards just get along and leave the normal people alone?

She had told Lily that, and the younger girl had shook her head. "You don't understand. It isn't like that."

Petunia heard Lily crying the next night. They were muffled sobs, reeking of pain and sadness.

She rolled over. Lily would have to sort it out on her own.

* * *

Petunia didn't talk about the magical world to Vernon. He was a proper boy. He didn't need to hear about stupid things like that. She just let him worry about his father's drilling company.

And later, she didn't invite Lily to the wedding. The in-laws didn't need to bother about a whole other world. It was too much hassle, and Lily had never liked Vernon anyway. And Petunia didn't want that Potter boy to come along.

She told herself all that. In the end, it wasn't because she didn't want to scare him off. It wasn't because he'd believe her anyway. It was because she didn't want to show it. Her jealousy. Her secret longing. Childish, she told herself. Childish fantasies.

She pretended not know that Lily would be crying again.

* * *

It was when Lily used magic at home that Petunia's age-old jealousy returned. Mum had asked them to clean the dishes. Petunia was visiting after the honeymoon to Cornwall, and seeing Lily home for Christmas was relieving. She almost believed that her younger sister would be in too much danger, what with the nonsense she'd been spouting about a war.

But there Lily was, and she was-

"Lily, isn't magic banned out of school?" Petunia snapped.

"I'm seventeen now, Petunia. I'm of age in the wizarding world."

"But … couldn't it be dangerous? You said it was dangerous if you made a mistake with no-one to watch you."

"I'm just drying the plates,Tuney. I'm not going to blow the kitchen up!"

Petunia wanted to wave a magical wand and make wonderful things happen. But she couldn't. That was just for Lily.

* * *

Petunia watched Lily grow from a girl into a woman, strong and confident and so very magical.

Tuney,

I can't visit this Christmas, now that school's finished and I'm not protected from the world anymore. It's getting more dangerous as the days go by, what with the war and all. They're hunting us out - muggleborns, I mean - and killing us. My friend was killed last week, and her muggle family too. I can't put you in that sort of danger, I just couldn't bear it if something happened.

James and I are to be married in early Autumn. I know it's only a year after graduation, but the world is dangerous for both of us, and we know it's happening at some point - why not now? You're invited, of course. You don't have to come, but I would appreciate it. I always loved you, Tuney, even if you said horrible things sometimes.

All my love,

Lily

The danger her sister faced burned at Petunia's heart. Why Lily? The princess was supposed to have a happy ending, not be in a war. Not be hunted like an animal, not always be afraid. She was too sweet to deserve the pain, too innocent to take the horror.

But was she so innocent anymore? She was in a war. She'd seen death. Lily was strong. She could get through this. She had to.

* * *

Petunia was wilting. Her mother had said they bloomed when they were together, but now they weren't. They were very far apart, so Petunia was wilting.

The distance was painful, just as it had been in those years that Lily went to Hogwarts. It stung more painfully than a thousand bees, burned hotter than the bonfire on Guy Fawkes night.

She hadn't received a letter in what seemed like forever. Lily had said that she and Potter were going into hiding, because they and their child were in danger.

The burning in Petunia's heart had blazed into a raging fire. She was angry at anyone who dared make her sister - her beautiful, strong sister - so scared.

For once, she waited for those godforsaken owls with bated breath, knowing that the next one that came would be from Lily, saying that everything was alright, that she was safe … or a letter from a friend, saying that Lily was gone.

Gone. The word wasn't right. It seemed too casual, as if she was on holiday.

But it wasn't as if she could say 'dead': Petunia couldn't bear such a word - so very sharp, painful.

So gone it was.

She wouldn't be. She couldn't be. She couldn't be gone.

* * *

Wilting. She was still wilting, staring at the windows, tearing open letters urgently whenever they came, attacking the postman.

Petunia felt like she was going to puke, because she hadn't gone to the wedding. Years ago now, and she hadn't gone. She felt that had been her chance, and it had slipped through her fingers.

And with the continued lack of news, Petunia felt her heart shrivel into something that could only be despair.

* * *

Then she got an owl. It was very official looking - big and black with cold eyes and a sharp beak. That was when she knew something was wrong. Lily wouldn't use such a terrifying creature, because she knew her sister didn't like birds.

Mrs Dursley,

I am sad to inform you that your sister has been killed.

She didn't read the rest. It was useless. The words could do nothing to console her, because suddenly she was angry. She wanted to hurt someone, to destroy something, she wanted to sit down and scream. The rage bubbled inside her.

She was angry at the killer, of course. She didn't care who it was, she just wanted them dead. They had taken the life of someone so sweet, so gentle, so perfect. They had killed a princess - no, a queen - they had killed a queen and now they deserved to pay.

She was angry at herself. For not being kinder to Lily while he still could. For not accepting her. For being so cruel. But she was also mad at herself for becoming attached. She didn't like the feeling she felt now: the raw emotion, the emptiness, the wilting. Everything seemed grey and dull and unnecessary.

She was angry at Lily. She knew it was stupid, but she was angry at Lily for dying, for being a witch, for making Petunia love her. Because if Petunia hadn't loved her, she wouldn't be such a wreck now.

She could remember it all. Every moment with her sister. She could remember the mask she had used to hide her jealousy and her weakness. She remembered dancing, twirling around in the small garden, so happy she felt like her heart would burst, smiling so much her face might split in half where she'd stretched her lips.

Memories, overwhelming her. Dancing round and round and round in her head. Red hair. green eyes. Freckles. Playing princesses, and painting in the garden. Laughing at Dad's bad jokes. Playing with the cat. Dancing. That one moment that held more joy than all the rest put together. She had never felt like that - so free.

She could imagine Lily now. Dancing and twirling and falling, falling, falling. Gone.

* * *

Petunia's POV is surprisingly fun to write with and kinda easy. I hope you enjoyed it (tell me what you think)!


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